


For Tonight

by AStoneTown



Category: Ashes to Ashes
Genre: F/M, First Time, and last times
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-20
Updated: 2018-03-20
Packaged: 2019-04-05 07:20:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14039082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AStoneTown/pseuds/AStoneTown
Summary: If they only have one night together, who is Jim Keats to stop them?





	For Tonight

**Author's Note:**

> Recently rewatched ashes and I'm still traumatised by the episode 7 no kiss, altered script bullshit. So, I gave them sex. And love. And the sense of impending doom. And a dash of Jim. No beta-reader, enjoy guys. Enjoy.

** For Tonight **

* * *

 

Some words are so carefully put together; the listener can’t help but wonder how often they’ve thought of that moment. When Gene Hunt told Alex he wanted her, after breaking off an intense kiss, all those carefully planned words disappeared.

“Yes…” she whispered. Simple.

Yes, I know.

Yes, I want you, too.

Yes, yes, _yes_.

He pecked her, his nose brushing against hers before he pulled back briefly. It was more intimate than she expected and she let out a careful and quiet giggle. He gave her a rare smile, moving to place kisses across her face, before focusing on her neck.

This was something Alex knew how to handle. Her reactions were intuitive, just like his actions. He nipped at her skin, his hands slowly moving over her body.

“Be-bedroom,” Alex wanted to curse her stuttered words. Her only clue that he felt nervous as well was his trembling hand as he pulled back and grasped hers, tugging gently to her room. He didn’t say a word, or look at her. 

With a man like Gene, his silence was unnerving. He always had something to say. Always.  Upon entering her room, he finally met her eyes. And there it was. Everything he didn’t know how to vocalise.

This was big. It didn’t take a genius to work _that_ out. Alex made a conscious decision to side with Gene, despite her need to return to Molly, despite the murky history surrounding Sam Tyler. To side with Gene required giving into that part she managed to resist.

Attraction, intimacy… _love_.

Without any other words, Alex took hold of the bottom of her shirts and removing them in one swift movement.

She had planned (if her wildest dream came true and they made it this far) for Gene to slowly strip her from her dress. To reveal pieces of her skin to him inch by inch. Of course, things rarely went the way she planned.

“Alex…” he let out, his eyes trailing over her exposed skin. He moved to touch her, his fingers trailing across her scar, “…sorry.”

“My fault,” she shrugged one shoulder, her hand covering his, “clumsy tart.”

He chuckled, although it didn’t last.

“You’re beautiful.”

Making an executive decision, she removed her shoes, dropping down a few inches, stumbling slightly as she settled. He grasped her elbow to steady her, a fond look on his face.

“Told you, I’m clumsy.”

He didn’t speak, brushing his hands up and down her arms. Her hand rose to unbutton his shirt, fumbling a little at his waistcoat.

(God, who were they kidding? As they got ready they knew exactly what they wanted. Two people don’t overdress for a date like that, unless they know exactly how they want it to end)

As she pushed the layers off his body, he had moved to kiss her neck again. Once free, his hands moved to gently brush across her silk covered breasts, lingering slightly. He found out pretty quickly he was on the right track, trailing the front clasp of her bra.

“And you said I’d never find out,” he grinned into her neck. There was something about it. The cockiness that was just so _Gene_ , it sparked something in her. Letting out a groan she moved his hands out of the way, making quick work of it, falling from her body quickly. There was no pausing from that before she moved Gene’s head from her neck, her lips meeting his with a kiss reminiscent from the first. Messy, passionate and still learning. 

His hands moved around her bringing her chest towards his, the skin on skin contact causing a mewl of pleasure to break through Alex into the kiss. It got a growl in response from Gene and he pulled them backwards, landing sloppily on the bed, the kiss barely breaking.

It wasn’t long before he rolled her over, some slight manoeuvring, got them mostly right in the centre of the bed.

“Bloody ‘ell, Alex,” he said as he knelt back, legs on either side of hers, taking in her mussed look, bruised lips and heaving chest, “wanted to take my time, but… it would take a better man than me.”

He moved off to stand at the foot of the bed, pulling off his boots in a hurried frenzy. Alex snapped into action, making quick work of her leggings and underwear.

“God Gene,” she groaned, taking in the sight of him, proud in front of her. She arched her back, a plea in the way of a groan exiting her. A little part of her brain, the one firmly in a pants suit in 2008 rolled her eyes. Who would’ve imagined that Alex Drake, psychologist and hostage negotiator extraordinaire would be reduced to slightly (very) desperate mess in three steps or less?

It was made less embarrassing by the reaction Gene gave. Moving quicker than expected over her body, he looked more like a starved beast… and she was definitely the only thing on the menu.

“You’re gorgeous,” he whispered against her lips, letting out a crude sound when she wrapped her legs around his waist. There was supposed to be foreplay. He wanted her to scream his name, his head between her thighs… he wanted to see her pretty little mouth wrapped around his cock.

Of course, the fantasy doodles in his office were nothing compared to almost three years of yearning for the real deal. It took barely a few seconds and he could feel the tip of him against her entrance.

“Please…” she pulled back, biting his bottom lip making him growl. She let him go with a smile.

“Since ya asked nicely,” he grinned, pushing slowly but forcefully into her. He wanted her to feel everything he was, everything _she_ did to him. Yet, when it came down to it… all he really wanted was for her to feel what he felt inside. To know that this meant more to him than anything. Trailing a hand down her side, he moved to her thigh, pulling it higher up his body as he moved.

It was tortuously slow. A drawn out exploration of each other, in the simplest form.

Maybe it wasn’t as good as it could have been, either. A hot fuck against the wall, biting and sucking at skin… that would’ve been better. That would have been more accurate to their relationship.

Neither expected what they got. There was barely a space between them. Each thrust brought a gasp of emotion out of Alex, cursing the sting of tears she felt building behind her closed eyes.

She could feel it, with the way his head was buried at the curve of her neck… his teeth brushing against her skin.

It wasn’t just lust… It was love.

“Oh, God…” she groaned as he hit a particularly perfect stride. Feeling him grin against her skin, she resisted the urge to slap him, “…don’t stop.”

“Wasn’t plannin’ on it,” he half-grunted. The hand that wasn’t grasping tightly at her thigh moved between them, almost expectedly seeking out her clit.

(She hadn’t expected _that_. In her own time men were still taking some time to figure out with a guided handbook about how to make a woman orgasm. She didn’t know how Gene Hunt… dinosaur of the 1980s knew, and she wasn’t going to question it when she was wound so tight she thought she might break him in two).

“Yes… oh… you’re good,” she knew she’d regret the amount of ego stroking she was doing for Gene right then, but it was… it was _really_ good and it did help that she knew exactly when to move her hips, the noises to make to urge him on and the noises she didn’t _have_ to make that came naturally.

He pulled back, nudging his nose against hers and her eyes fluttered open. There was a look in his eyes, it was determined. His fingers moved quicker between them and she realised what he wanted then… he wanted to watch her break apart.

Even if she was too prideful, she wouldn’t have been able to help herself. A few expert thrusts, his fingers moving relentlessly paired with the look in his eyes. Raising her hips off the bed, he paused his movements as she shuddered, her head knocked back in ecstasy.

“Oh God… God, Gene…” she gasped it out, he brought his hand from between her thighs, cupping her face.

“Bloody beautiful,” he whispered before kissing her. He restarted his thrusting then, with a selfish purpose that she was all too happy to ride along with. The kiss was breath taking, in the most literal sense, but it didn’t matter as Gene broke away swearing.

Alex’s hands cupped his face, “Beautiful.” She repeated back to him. It was probably a stupid term of endearment but the sincerity in it was all it took. One final thrust, a powerful groan and Gene came.

* * *

After everything settled, kisses exchanged and it found Alex resting on her stomach next to Gene as he smoked, leaning against the headboard.

“Should have done tha’ the first year you were ‘ere,” Gene spared her a look out of the corner of his eye, “ya kno’, when you were throwin’ yourself at me.”

He wanted a little rise off her, wanted some of their familiarity.

“Mm,” she moved languidly and he had to stop himself from groaning at the sight, “can’t say I didn’t try, at least.”

He snorted in agreement and stubbed out his cigarette, moving to lie on his side. It was slightly awkward, despite their time together everything was still so fragile.

At least that was, until she turned to look at him. All heavy, lustful eyes. She leant on her forearms, and gave him a gentle smile. Without thinking he brushed a hand down her bare back, before running his fingers gently back up.

She giggled at the touch, faux-struggling to get away.

“An’ you said I’d never find out which way your bra opens,” Gene stopped his movements, keeping his hand palm down in the centre of her back.

“Glad I was wrong,” she said. The look in her eyes was so genuine, it spoke of more than just the sex they experienced, and it was the cementing of their bond. She gave her faith, wholly to him, to whatever he told her about Sam. Or more importantly, what he didn’t tell her… whatever he held back from her.

Ray was always right about Gene Hunt. Being with him was the safest place to be. He didn’t withhold from her with malice, she knew that much. Whereas with Keats… it felt like he was ruling a chessboard, like he knew exactly what the ending he wanted to be… and she was just another piece. Whether he made her feel special or not.

“Thank you,” she whispered, turning and moving so she could smooth her hand down his face. She watched, fascinated as he turned his head, pressing his lips to her palm. Like the forehead kiss, earlier, this was painfully intimate. This is the type of behaviour reserved just for them, maybe Alex would drunkenly giggle about her (oh Jesus Christ, great) sex life with Shaz, but this… these moments with Gene Hunt? It was special… just for them.

“I should be thankin’ you,” he whispered to her. And there it was. Yes, Alex Drake had put her trust completely in Gene… but he had done the same. Completely. She couldn’t stop herself from hugging him, pushing him onto his back, her arms around his neck. His arms already moved to hold her.

“I hate this feeling,” she could feel the tears in her eyes, “like it’s all going to end.”

“Nah, not us… the fun stuff’s only just started,” he whispered into her hair, he could feel his neck getting slightly damp, “hey, hey… can’t ‘ave you cryin’, Bols. Not after we just did what we did.”

“Not crying,” she lied, snuggling closer, “can we stay here for a while?”

“I’m lying in bed with you on top of me, you won’t ‘ave any complaints from me.”

“Can we stay here, forever?” She pulled back, her cheeks damp, she looked like a damsel with her soft child-like voice and he craved to help. Especially with her. She was everything he wanted from the moment he saw her, dressed as a prostitute and shouting out some whatever crazy brain shit that went over his head every day since.

“Mm,” he pretended to debate her question, “can’t do that, Bolly… got a job to do, us two… gotta face tomorrow.”

She shook her head, letting out a sigh. She gave a small pause before moving a leg over to straddle him. She grinned at his raised eyebrows.

Because if this was it? If this was the only time they’d have together, she wasn’t going to waste a moment.

* * *

 

The swift knock on her door should have startled her, instead it served as a gentle wake-up, taking a moment to access the scene and wonder what woke her. It wasn’t Gene. He slept on, a light snore exiting his lips. She wasn’t sleeping on him, but close on her side, her hand resting on his.

She turned to her alarm clock and saw the time flicker from 9:06 to 4:45am. She’d have to get a new one, she knew that. She thought of the pros and cons of attempting to get Gene to go shopping with her, when the knock on her front door sounded again and she realised that must be what woke her.

Gene, however, remained undisturbed.

Pressing a kiss to his shoulder, she grinned as he twitched at the contact. At least she knew she’d be enough to wake him. Rising from the bed she pulled on her robe and padded to the door, closing the bedroom one behind her.

_Let the lion sleep._

“Alex…” the silky tone of Keats’ voice hit her before she registered his face. He didn’t look like a man about to enter and she was glad for it.

“It’s not even five, Sir, can this wait?” she had to stop herself from hissing at him. She felt herself protective of the man a door away from them. Until this moment she had a semi-allegiance to the dark haired DCI who seemed to talk in riddles and half-truths.

The night brought a lot of change, a lot of truths and perhaps lies… but a commitment too. However silent it may be.

“Can justice wait?” he started, smirked and stopped. The second he took to look at her she knew he knew. He must. A shadow seemed to appear on his face, his smirk twisting to something with malice.

“We have a case?” she said, hopefully distracting him.

“No…” he brought a manila envelope into her view.

“What’s that?”

“The photos developed,” he passed it onto her, “be careful, Alex… I think we’ve found our grave.” With that he looked at the bedroom door, the twisted grin from earlier on his face before he walked away. Shutting the door she was unsurprised to see her bedroom door open, Gene standing there in his underwear, his white shirt on and unbuttoned.

“Often get early morning calls from Jimbo, Bolly?” he tried to sound casual but there was a hint of doubt.

“He developed photos… I-I… think they’re yours,” she passed him the envelope and he took it carefully. It was a can of worms she gave him and he had no intention of opening it until the morning had actually broke. He moved to drop it to the kitchen table.

“They can wait, Alex…” he took her hand in his, “I don’t know about you, but whatever shit Keats is throwing, I don’t fancy walking straight into the firing line.”

It was her decision then. But if a man like Gene Hunt, whose life is being a police officer can resist the mystery for whatever is between them… then Alex Drake could too.

They walked into her room, the door closing behind them. It was the two of them, for all of time… for the last time.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Never forget in the original script for episode 7 we would have heard the words, 'I want you, Alex Drake' from Gene bloody Hunt. What a travesty.


End file.
